


Say Please

by summerofspock



Series: Accumulation (The Life and Times of Crowley's Facial Hair) [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 1970s, Anal Sex, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Come Eating, Come Sharing, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disco Crowley, Facials, M/M, Mild Angst, Mirror Sex, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Tony's Moustache, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24254512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley haven't seen each other in years. That doesn't mean Aziraphale doesn't miss him something fierce.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Accumulation (The Life and Times of Crowley's Facial Hair) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742881
Comments: 66
Kudos: 449
Collections: Stayin' Julive - The Tony Month Collection





	Say Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squiddz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddz/gifts), [doorwaytoparadise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doorwaytoparadise/gifts), [elizabethelizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/gifts).



> The long awaited come in tony's moustache fic aka the reason this series exists

It had been years. At least five. That should have been nothing in the face of their history and yet Aziraphale still ached with the memory of their last conversation. The look on Crowley’s face in the red lights of Soho while Aziraphale handed him holy water.

Crowley had said he loved him that night after the church bombing. They’d been curled together on Aziraphale’s bed as Crowley slowly brushed his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. 

Crowley had said the words and Aziraphale had squeezed his eyes shut, mouth clamping down around the desire to say it back. 

When he opened his eyes, Crowley didn’t say anything. He just looked sad. Aziraphale wanted to say something. Desperately. He wanted to explain. But how could he? He was a coward. A bad friend. A bad angel.

Crowley had cupped his cheek and murmured, “It’s alright, pet,” and kissed him like nothing had happened. Like Aziraphale wasn’t the most pathetic being in existence.

Aziraphale loved him so much it hurt.

It hurt even worse when Crowley left the next day and then even more when he didn’t hear from the demon for over twenty years. And then not since that night in 1967.

Maybe Crowley was giving him space. Maybe Crowley was angry.

Except Aziraphale knew better. Because he knew Crowley. And Crowley was hurt and trying not to be. He was trying to  _ respect Aziraphale’s wishes _ . It sliced at Aziraphale’s own heart.

And so, more often than not, he tried to pretend none of it had ever happened. Easier said than done. Even though Aziraphale could tell Crowley was trying to make it easy for him. By avoiding their usual haunts, not contacting him. 

It would have been easier if Aziraphale didn’t miss him so much.

Feeling particularly maudlin one spring evening--the weather was nice and that made Aziraphale miserable--he ducked into a bar to treat himself to a nice cocktail and maybe some conversation if anyone seemed particularly interesting. He ordered a sloe gin fizz and settled into a chair at the bar, watching the people move around the room, fascinating in the multi colored lights. The 70s really was quite a bright era. Vivid. Might have been due to all the drugs but who was Aziraphale to know.

He was halfway through his drink when a familiar shade of red hair caught his eye.

_ Crowley _ .

Aziraphale’s poor corporation could hardly handle the sharp beating of his heart. He could feel it thrumming all the way at the tips of his fingers and toes. He sucked in a breath and then Crowley looked at him.

The air was gone from the room. Disappeared entirely.

_ I love you _ .

Aziraphale could still feel the ghost of Crowley’s lips forming the words against his collarbone. He would never forget.

One corner of Crowley’s mouth quirked in a smile of recognition and then he was crossing the room, cutting through the mass of drunken humans and coming to a stop right beside Aziraphale. He looked...well, he looked like Crowley always looked. A confusing mix of deeply attractive and utterly ridiculous. His hair was too long, brushing his shoulder in a semblance of what was fashionable. He was sporting a silly moustache, thick and wider than his mouth. The whole affect made his face look more square, hiding the jagged edges of his cheekbones and the way they carved into devastating dimples. 

Aziraphale would tease him about falling into the wrong end of the fashion pool if it weren’t for his outfit which…

Flowing maroon satin shirt tucked into tight pants that flared at the ankles. His shirt was scandalously unbuttoned and Aziraphale could see the flash of auburn hair on his chest that he had once memorized the texture of. His hands were itching. His mouth was watering. He wanted to grab Crowley by his slim hips and slam him against the bar and claim him in a kiss.

He took a deep breath.

“Hello, Crowley, I didn’t expect to see you here,” 

Crowley’s current sunglasses did quite a bit to hide his eyes but Aziraphale was fairly certain that earned him a darting glance. “Can’t say I expected you either.”

He waved down the bartender and ordered them a second round. “How’s the shop?” Crowley asked.

Safe territory.

“Oh, it’s quite...boring. Which I suppose I should be glad for,” Aziraphale said with an awkward laugh. Why did he have to run into Crowley here of all places? He wished they could be alone.

“We could go back there. To mine,” Aziraphale said, heart racing. “If you’re interested.”

Crowley cocked his head. He took a long drink and licked his lips. “Not sure if that’s a good idea. You know.”

Aziraphale hadn’t known what he expected but apparently it wasn’t a rejection. His stomach lurched and he felt tears sting at his eyes. Crowley most certainly didn’t need to see that.

“I’ve got to—go...wash my hands,” Aziraphale stammered, rushing off and ignoring Crowley’s confused expression

Good lord, he was being pathetic. It was a silly excuse but he went to the washroom anyways where he could stare at himself in the unforgiving light of the washroom and wish things could be different. 

The door creaked open and Crowley slipped inside, clicking the lock shut behind him. Aziraphale stared at his hands. He didn’t even need to be washing them, but the water was cool and soothing.

“Angel, I’m sorry,” Crowley said, pushing the ridiculous flop of his too-long red hair out of his face. 

Aziraphale felt the paper-thin walls of his heart crumple. He whirled on Crowley, hands still wet, “What are you apologizing for? It’s me. I’m—I’m stringing you along. Not even...I’m not even brave enough to say how I feel. I shouldn’t have propositioned you like that. It was unfair of me. I just—”

Tears were gathering in his eyes and Crowley was by his side immediately. “Hey,” he said, hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Don’t cry. You don’t owe me anything.”

With his stupid, fashionable boots, Crowley was a few inches taller than him and Aziraphale had to tilt his head slightly to look in his eyes. “Crowley,” he breathed. “I owe you everything.”

He fisted his wet hands in Crowley’s satin shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. The demon huffed a noise of shock into his mouth but didn’t protest as he brought his hands to cup Aziraphale’s face. 

He had missed his hands. So much. His kisses equally so. It came as no surprise when Aziraphale melted against him, weight coming to rest on the sink counter behind him. Crowley’s moustache scraped over his sensitive upper lip, making him gasp when Crowley deepened the kiss. Aziraphale sucked greedily on his tongue and caressed it with his own as a familiar ache grew in his belly. It had been twenty years. Too long.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped when he finally pulled back, hoping beyond hope Crowley would know what he was asking for.

Something rumbled in Crowley’s chest and he tore at Aziraphale’s belt. “You want me?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, the word drifting off onto a moan when Crowley’s hand slipped into his trousers.

Crowley tore off his glasses and captured Aziraphale’s mouth in another kiss that turned Aziraphale’s spine to jelly. He had missed him. Crowley. Beloved Crowley.

His hands snuck up under Aziraphale’s shirt and squeezed at his hips like Crowley couldn’t get enough. Then his trousers were down around his knees, followed by his pants and Crowley was flipping him around, pressing him against the sink and meeting his eyes in the mirror. One final check-in. Do you want this?

Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley’s palms were on his arse, kneading the flesh and making Aziraphale press back against him with a needy moan. Two slick fingers pressed into him. His back curled and when he glanced up he saw his own face, flushed with arousal and Crowley’s behind him, graced with a look of such care and attention that Aziraphale ached with the words he couldn’t—shouldn’t say.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale begged. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Crowley said quietly, one hand running down Aziraphale’s back and coming to grip the cinch at the back of his waistcoats as the other fucked him steadily. “Do you want me?”

“Inside me, yes,” Aziraphale gasped. 

Aziraphale heard the goosebump-inducing sound of a fly unzipping and then the blunt pressure of Crowley’s cock pushing into him. He gripped the sink so hard it cracked and he abruptly had to miracle the tile back together before he lost higher function entirely.

It was a slow press, a steady burn, the sound of Crowley’s breath coming in harsh bursts like he was struggling to control himself. Aziraphale's shoulders rolled forward under the steadily building pressure and then Crowley stopped.

Crowley’s hands sank into his hips and the warm length of his torso draped over his back before Crowley whispered in his ear, his moustache tickling the sensitive skin, "I'm going to fuck you now."

Aziraphale thought he might come just from that. The heat in Crowley's voice. 

Crowley withdrew slowly, just until the head of his cock met resistance and then he pushed back inside slowly. Aziraphale shuddered. 

The slow pace only lasted so long. But it was long enough that Aziraphale was begging for more. He watched Crowley in the mirror, angular face entirely focused on fucking him, eyes cast down at the place where their bodies joined. His russet lashes shaded his eyes but Aziraphale imagined they were fully yellow. Fully animal.

"Harder please. I won't break," Aziraphale said between little surprised gasps of pleasure. "I want to feel it. Feel you."

Crowley stopped moving, cock fully seated inside Aziraphale, a warm pressure that made it difficult to think. He caught Aziraphale's eyes in the mirror. 

And then he fucked him.

It was the slick slap of skin, the spark of pleasure. Aziraphale's body knew Crowley’s, trusted it, yearned for it. And Crowley was giving it to him.

The physical pleasure was there, steadily building to a peak, but what made Aziraphale mad for it was how utterly loved he felt. One hand clutching his waistcoat. One at his hip. Crowley thrusting into him and telling him how good he was being. How gorgeous he was.

Aziraphale fisted his hands on the sink and let himself feel good. Not a bad angel for loving a demon. Not a bad friend for being unable to say how he felt.

"’Ziraphale," Crowley gasped, hips losing rhythm in a way that made Aziraphale cry out with sudden sharp pleasure. "I'm not gonna last."

"Don't. I want you to come. Please. Come inside me."

"Fuck," Crowley hissed, slamming inside him a final time and even though Aziraphale couldnt feel his release, he relished the warmth of Crowley pressed against him and the knowledge that they were joined together.

Crowley withdrew and Aziraphale twisted around to kiss him but he put the flat of his hand on Aziraphale’s back and said, "Hands on the counter."

Aziraphale's knuckles flexed against the marble and his heart raced as he watched in the mirror while Crowley sank to his knees behind him.

Oh.

He felt the press of thumbs on his arse, the twinge of pain as they pulled on abused muscles but then the fluttering of a warm tongue over him. Aziraphale dropped his head onto his arms. "Oh, Crowley."

He could feel the bristle brush of Crowley's moustache across his arse, catching in the fine hair and tickling as Crowley lapped at him with his clever tongue.

Crowley gripped his thighs and pressed his face deeper, dipping his tongue inside and then laving it over the stretched muscle before sucking lightly. Aziraphale shivered at the sensation.

Teeth nipped at his arse and then Crowley was pulling back. "All clean," he said and Aziraphale couldn’t help his startled laugh.

"Now turn around and let me suck you off."

Aziraphale rose on unsteady legs, shifting so he was facing Crowley once more. The demon looked glorious on his knees. His chin was slick with spit and his own spend. His auburn moustache damp and mussed. He didn't seem to care. He just looked up at Aziraphale with trusting eyes and Aziraphale's heart twisted.

He ran his hand through Crowley's hair, holding it back as Crowley sank his mouth down on his cock. Aziraphale’s hand tightened without meaning to and Crowley groaned in pleasure, taking him deeper until his lips were pressed against the thatch of curly blond hair at the base. His moustache brushed against the sensitive skin.

He hollowed his cheeks and drew off, leaving Aziraphale shaking. "I'm so close," Aziraphale said, using the hand in Crowley's hair to stay him. "Can I?"

Crowley—wonderful glorious Crowley—knew exactly what he was asking for. He pulled off and looked up at him, taking his cock in his hand and fisting it. He stroked him twice and Aziraphale’s orgasm hit him, hard and unyielding as he spilled over Crowley's face. White streaks on his crooked nose, dripping into his moustache and down to stain his satin shirt.

Aziraphale's chest heaved as Crowley tucked him away, pulling up his trousers and zipping them carefully. He rose up in front of him, shamelessly covered in Aziraphale’s spend. 

Mine.

Aziraphale surged forward and kissed him hard, liking the way his come smeared between their mouths.

Crowley pulled back and tipped their foreheads together. His hands were fisted in Aziraphale’s waistcoat. "Can I say it, angel? I want to say it."

"Crowley you know I can’t—” 

"I know you can't but I also know what's true. Let me tell you."

Aziraphale swallowed. Nodded.

"I love you," Crowley said, hands coming up to cradle his face.

Aziraphale’s eyes burned as he glanced away. "I’m sorry."

Crowley smiled sadly and kissed him. "I know."


End file.
